Red Season
by Kanon Mikaelson
Summary: Kaname is the ancestor, Rido the ex-pureblood king, and Yuki the latest in the bloodline. But this is about her. Mercy Kuran, the Red Witch. A beautiful face with a wicked soul. Strayed from her vampire genes although still inhuman, she is the last surviving witch of Salem. Present day, the vampire senate requests Mercy's subordination, but it seems they've awakened darker means.
1. Chapter 1

_December 17th, 1675_

The child cried, screeched, writhed in the rolls of her tiny body. Barely a month old, if even. He approached the Kuran vaults, as he carried the baby in flannel cloths. "Quiet yourself," he snapped at her. She continued to bawl, kicking her small feet, the torches of the underground route roaring for the slightest second. He stopped to look back at the growling torches, then continued on his path quickly. A room miles wide with coffins lie in wait for most of their owners, very few already occupied. But it was the oldest, crumbling stone abode that he searched for.

It was on the highest perch, a golden cherub dancing on a pillar on each side of it. He breathed through his nose with triumph as he placed the child aside as he broke the chains on the casket. The infant calmed, but continued to shriek as soon as her captor cradled her once more. The cloths dropped to the floor as he took the baby by her hand-held torso. As soon as he began his sacrifice, it ended quickly. The torches in the room roared, and in the child fury, turned a deep blue.

Struck by the child's power, he looked around frantically before ripping the casket open. There lie a man. His chest pumped up and down and his lengthening hair covered his torso. The child's eyes met the sleeping man's body, as she calmed with her little arms pumping. Her captor muttered his prayer under his breath, drawing a dagger from his coat.

Drawing it upon the child, it had barely met her heart before its steel material shattered like a mirror. The baby giggled like this was a game. Like she was no sacrifice.

His heart beat quickened as he held the child to his view; he'd taken no time to see her beauty. _How she looked like her mother...the one that he had once loved. _Pale features, and rosy lips...some dark curls forming on the top of her bald head. His face went neutral as he heard approaching voices.

His eyes wandering down to the man who lay in eternal sleep in the sarcophagus, he sighed in frustration as his evaporation powers took the child from the scene. _She was not the one._

* * *

><p>She cried and frailed, her baby soft skin getting cold in the woods on a cold winter night. The trees bended and broke with the child's uncontrollable emotion, which made her weep even more. Two women passing thankfully heard her cries. "What is that?" one of the women's heavenly voice asked. "I'm sure it's only a bird. We must hurry!" the other cried, grabbing her friend's arm. "No...it's a child," the woman replied as she pulled away. Silence fell as the baby was heard in the distance. The first woman took off into the dark as the other followed, begging her to ignore the trivial noise.<p>

The baby screamed violently, which drove the woman to slide on her knees to the swaddled infant. "Anne...Anne look!" the woman called. Taking the baby in the wool of her cloak, she showed the child to her friend and smiled. "That's not ours, Denia," Anne whispered. "But someone left her here...we can't leave her. Look how beautiful she is," the woman, Denia replied. Anne frowned as she held her torch away from the child, looking around.

"We'll bring her to the sisters...perhaps they can put her in a home. But we _must _hurry. Salem's curfew is unforgiving," Anne said, walking ahead. Denia stood awhile, smiling down at the child, before following.


	2. Chapter 2

_Salem 1684_

The other children were like flies, something she could easily swat away. Nine years old, but never did she need the company of another except for her mother. She sat on the plaza well as she held her doll to her chest, watching the other girls play in front of the chapel. She was forbidden from setting foot even on its steps, her mother claiming it'd be their undoing. She was still too young to know what it'd meant. Denia, her mother, came over with her basket of herbs as she followed her child's gaze. "Mercy...why don't you play with them?" she asked, playing with the girl's tight curls. "I don't want to play with them," Mercy claimed looking at her doll. "They always say mean things." Her mother sighed with a heavy heart as she kneeled in front of her daughter.

"They're not like you, my love. They're just jealous, that's all," she smiled. Mercy smiled weakly as her mother took her hand and began walking them home. Mercy felt the pull of her mother's strong grip on her arm as she slammed into her mother's thigh when a group of people passed them. A women were in tears as they followed this group of men dressed in black. They came to a stop as she still watched curiously. "...I beg your pardon, Lord Ichijo. Peace be upon you," her mother said fearfully. Drawing Mercy's attention, she looked up at the large man who stood before them. "And upon you, Ms. Blackwood," his deep voice came.

He looked down upon the small girl, as she returned a deadened gaze. When she looked at this man...all she could see was a shroud of black. She never liked him. "Peace be upon you, Ms. Mercy," he said to the girl. The child was quiet. "Please excuse her, she's feeling ill. Blessings, Lord Ichijo," her mother said briefly. Lord Ichijo bowed his head, the mother and daughter leaving the scene. "Manners, Mercy," Denia told her. "I don't like him, mommy," Mercy complained.

"No one does dear," Ms. Blackwood chuckled as she let the child into their small home.

* * *

><p>Darkness always arose before supper, and Mercy sat at the window watching the villagers pass by with their torches. "I want to go too," Mercy said, turning to her mother. Denia sighed. "We've had this discussion darling, we are not welcomed among that crowd," she told her child. Mercy's springy black curls danced as she hopped off the window sill and joined her mother in the separate room. "Come," Denia says, taking the girl's hand. Mercy followed her mother to the cellar door under their fine rug, which may have been the only nice thing they had. Mercy ran down the steps behind her mother as soon as the door opened. Her mother lit their candles, Mercy drawing a large pentagram in the center of room with a peace of charcoal as she dropped her doll by the stairs.<p>

"Mommy, do we have to? I don't want to practice," Mercy whined. "I want to keep you strong, Mercy. I want to keep your gift in top shape...you are the next generation of the Blackwoods," her mother said, joining her daughter on the floor across the pentagram. Placing a candle in the center of their drawing, Mercy sighed. Her eyes closed like her mother's, and silence fell. _...Arom Alle Vie, Arom Alle Vie_, she repeated in her thoughts. The sound of a roaring flame was heard, her mother smiling as they gaze at the newly lit candle. Her brows furrowed in heavy concentration, Mercy watched as the candle lifted from the ground on an invisible current.

"Very good, Mercy," Denia said. "But not quite enough."


	3. Chapter 3

_Salem, MA - 1686_

"I'm trying," Mercy snapped. "Not hard enough," Denia replied in a calm tone. Staring down her daughter's cold gaze, Denia set a large book in front of the girl and pulled her away from the table. "Mercy. You need to be able to take care of yourself...if something happens to me. Have I not told you about those ropes out in the town? Any time now, they will start taking innocent women and stringing them up for warning-" "Mama don't talk like that," Mercy pleaded, "We don't know if those girls are like us or not. And if they are, they weren't careful. We're better than that." Her mother simpered slightly as her matching midnight ringlets enveloped Mercy's shoulders in a hug.

Kneeling down, Denia straightened Mercy's attire and put some of her hair behind her ears. "That's right. So let's do our best," Denia smiled. Mercy nodded faintly as she looked back at the book. She held a long and hard stare, her eyes burning from concentration. It wasn't until she breathed deeply that the book suddenly slid off and opened to a specific page. Denia chuckled in delight as Mercy picked up the book and looked at her. "And that is what's called 'Divination', my love," she smiled. Mercy smiled back as she looked down at the page and read through the title.

_"The fifth elector, Divination"_

* * *

><p><span><em>Salem, MA - 1688<em>

"Mama! Mama!" she screamed. She charged after them up the hill, covered mud and the pouring rain. "Please!" she sobbed. Denia was dragged by her underarms as she looked up at the storming clouds with such hate and disappointment. Mercy hit and kicked the men from behind, until the town reverend pulled her away. Mercy screamed out in pain as she sat on her knees by the large wooden execution stage, people gathering from their homes and places of work despite the weather. Mercy grabbed her mother's ankle as she blubbered for the men to let her go. "Let go, Mercy," Denia hissed. Mercy shook her head as she held on tightly.

Denia broke away from the men and kneeled by her weeping child as she grabbed her face harshly. "Get rid of those tears. You don't need me anymore. You'll be good, you will be careful, you are strong. I promise this is not the last time we'll see each other, my love..." she trailed off. Mercy's face was red with her angered cries as her mother kissed her forehead and was once again held at the arms by the executioner. The reverend kept a firm hold on the child's shoulders as Denia was brought to her final stand. The people around Mercy glared and looked at her with bewilderment.

_This girl's mother was a monster...dare she defend their town's devils? _Mercy screamed at the top of her lungs once the rope was brought around her mother's neck, and soon, hoisted her up by the throat and drawing her last dying breath. And with that one shrill, agonized scream, the whole world shook. Denia's eyes closed, a smile on her face, and all left her to suffer until the body-baggers came by...all except for Mercy & the reverend.

The innocent glimmer in her eyes was gone, and her body dripped with the rain that was now tainted with abandonment.


End file.
